


Dress Me Up

by Bakerstreethound



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - fandom, Sherlock Holmes Benedict Cumberbatch
Genre: Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, Domestic Sherlock, F/M, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes and his wife, Sherlock Holmes/Reader - Freeform, Whiny husband
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bakerstreethound/pseuds/Bakerstreethound
Summary: Ah, what bliss. Sherlock refuses to wake up one morning and it takes the convincing of his wife, along with a string of promises in order for him to start the day and onto yet another case before they can get too carried away by their passions for one another.
Relationships: Romantic - Relationship, Sherlock Holmes/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 93





	Dress Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this! I originally have this published on my Tumblr under @bakerstreethound. I'm just testing out this platform and may transfer all my other works here (: Thank you for reading!

“Sherlock, wake up, boy. Do you even know what time it is? Bloody hell you could’ve solved about ten cases by now.”  
You internally sighed, pulling back the heavy curtains, letting the sunlight filter through the darkened room.  
A mass of incoherent grumbles greeted you, muffled by the white cotton sheet, the only covering left on the disarranged bed.  
“I know you can hear me, come on now. Surely you won’t make John wait for you this long.” You rolled your eyes, walking over to him and giving him a gentle nudge.  
The massive lump squirmed once again, a deep sigh circulating throughout the room.  
“I don’t have the time for this, Sherlock. I have work to do.”  
After a few moments, he emerged, the white sheet, unfortunately, covering his bare chest. “You’re coming with me.”  
“I have papers to do and those are more important. Essays remember? Or have you forgotten the conversation?”  
“‘Course I remember, I was just busy thinking how annoying you were, so I shut you up.”  
This time an audible groan slipped from your lips. “Okay, I’m so fucking glad you thought a conversation about education was so boring you decided to kiss me, proceeding to ravish my body. How many times do I have to say you’re insufferable? I cannot for the life of me, join this mystery case of yours.”  
“We can stop by the bookstore along the way. I’ll even stay in there for more than ten minutes,” he smirked in amusement at your quirked brow. Oh that fool, as tempting as that offer sounded, you knew you had to maintain your focus, even if it meant shunning one of your favorite pastimes. The papers sure were not going to write themselves quickly enough and you needed them completed to put your overworked mind at ease.  
“Oh Sherlock, don’t threaten me with a good time. You along with my close circle of friends know how desperate for books I can get. Funny, you could never do that for me.”  
“Would you like to take back that statement, Mrs. Holmes?”  
“Don’t give me that look, Mister.”  
“What look? I can look however I please without you insulting me.”  
You eased yourself on the bed next to him, just as he propped himself against the headboard. “You’re impossible. Just let me do some goddamn work. These essays are important.”  
He smirked, as you inched closer to him, daring to touch the exposed skin on his chest. “They sure weren't important last night when I was in between your legs. And my you are just intoxicating,” he smirk grew wider as you brought up one leg, then another, straddling his waist. He snatched the opportunity, a faint glimmer of mischief twinkling in his eyes before trailing careful fingers down your arm, accentuating their flow with each word falling from his lips until they hovered above the waistband of your pants.  
You smiled softly, biting back a groan threatening to rise in your throat, as you traced a finger down his sculpted cheekbones.  
“Sherlock, please John will be waiting for you. Don’t want to keep him waiting. Remember that's why I had to wake you up.”  
“Well, it was a very rude wake-up call.”  
“Would you rather it be me with your cock in my mouth?”  
Sherlock’s face did nothing to hide his surprise, his cocky facade failing him as he inhaled deeply.  
“Oh, now there’s an idea for another time. Guess you weren’t that lucky this time, my love,” you snickered, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth, just before his captured yours, enveloping them in warmth and love.  
“Stop with this nonsense,” his lips now trailed over the thin ridges of your jawline, an index finger delving deeper, testing below the waistband of your pants, but before you do anything, let alone breathe, alarms blared in your head as you heard quite a familiar pattern of footsteps ascending the stairs. “Sherlock, look at me,” you spun away from his grip, staring at him straight in the eye. His brow furrowed in displeasure, lips ghosting into a smirk as he understood you were not playing around.  
He needed no prodding, knowing very well it was John as suspected, waiting in his usual chair beside the fireplace.  
“Don’t be gone too long, maybe I will reward you,” you murmured, lacing your voice with as much seduction as you could muster, “handsomely. Now go solve a case for me, Detective.”  
Without another word and eyes glistening in desire, Sherlock opened the door to your bedroom, casting you a wink before pulling on his scarf, and out into the foggy, rampant streets of London.


End file.
